


the art of wanting

by cadyjanis



Series: jatchen [4]
Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Apologies, Coming Out, Crushes, Developing Relationship, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadyjanis/pseuds/cadyjanis
Summary: gretchen sniffs, crying quieter now, breathing somewhat easier. “why are you being so nice to me?” she mutters, compelled to ask.janis shrugs. “i know how you feel,” is all she says, into the crook of gretchen’s neck.—gretchen gets more from janis than a hug she’s been needing for years.





	the art of wanting

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably my fav jatchen fic i’ve written so far so enjoy
>
>> **trigger warnings**   
>  abuse/bullying mention   
>  anxiety/panic attacks   
>  d slur

Gretchen Wieners really just needs someone to hold her.

 

Her crippling loneliness occurs to her randomly, during lunch one day in April, the first day back after spring break. Everyone has someone to sit with, and ever since the Plastics broke up and found new groups, Gretchen doesn’t know where exactly she fits in. She still hangs out with Karen, of course, they’re inseparable for life, but Karen has new friends and a new table and Gretchen doesn’t blame her for forgetting.

 

So lately she’s found herself at the end of the art freaks table, scrolling aimlessly through her phone as she picks at her food, invisible and unimportant. Glancing around at people reuniting and laughing together, she feels a strange ache in her gut, and she almost misses the Plastics. They were definite hell raisers in high heels, but at least she _belonged_ somewhere. Right?

 

Now all three of them have grown up and moved on, and with graduation looming, Gretchen is starting to panic. (She’s very good at that.) She always thought that was something they would achieve as friends, and have one last memorable summer before college. Teenage movie kind of crap, where the main character—in this scenario, Gretchen—would get the boy at the end. (Or girl. Preferably a girl.)

 

But Regina has her lacrosse team and Karen has her band geeks and Gretchen has…herself. Drifting through the final days of high school, studying for exams and prepping for the rest of her long, lonesome life. Her dates post-ceremony will be her parents and younger brother. The four of them might get milkshakes. Woo-hoo. So fetch.

 

Gretchen’s throat tightens then, and with a sniff she puts her phone in her bag, then stands and takes her tray with her. She flounces to the front of the bustling cafeteria to dump it, then struts out, still trying to hold her head up even though nobody bothers to see it anymore.

 

The girls’ bathroom is blessedly empty, giving her ample time and space to just stand there at the sink, hoping the warm water will soothe her jittery hands. She takes deep breaths, just how her therapist taught her, counting to twenty in her head then down again. Then she retrieves her makeup kit and dabs at her red-rimmed eyes, refusing to let a single tear fall. Regina used to make fun of her for how often she cried.

 

Usually accompanied by a swat to the back of the head, or if she was feeling particularly harsh, a pinch on the elbow. “God, Gretch, you’re not five,” she’d sneer, as Karen protectively came to Gretchen’s side to rub the sting from her skin. Neither were good at defending themselves, but at least they had each other.

 

And now Karen seems so far away, even when they’re seeing a movie or painting their nails or picking out new clothes at the mall. Karen has a lot on her mind, too. Better friends, working to get her grades up with help from a tutor, her mom’s new boyfriend…

 

Gretchen can’t calm down. Counting to twenty isn’t helping. She has to put her eyeliner pencil back lest she poke her eye out. She covers her ears with her hands, wanting to drown out the pounding of her own pulse, nearing her breaking point. She’s gone a few weeks without crying; she’s been doing well. She had a really nice, peaceful spring break in the Hamptons. Her meds are working. Right? They’re working. This is just a fluke. She _has_ to calm down. She has to or else she’ll end up in the hospital again, and she can’t do that to her mom, she just can’t—

 

“Gretchen?” The voice is unrecognizable, far away. The ocean in her head roars too loudly for her to actually process someone else’s presence. She’s staring at the edge of the counter, a tip her therapist gave her for when she’s upset.

 

There’s that familiar pain in her chest, the splintering sensation from last time. She thinks she’s breathing, but it’s not enough, never enough. She can already hear the beeping of a monitor and the sound of her mom’s voice humming a lullaby at her bedside.

 

“Gretchen, hey.” The voice gets closer, and there’s a shadow next to her, approaching carefully. Gretchen blinks and feels the hot tears on her face, unsure how long they’ve been falling. She can barely hear or feel anything, eighty percent of her body numb with fear and dread. So she’s slow to react when the person gently grasps her wrists, prying her hands from her head, where the noise is loudest.

 

“Hey there, Gretch,” the other, taller girl greets quietly, as Gretchen stiffens and struggles now to lift her head, paralyzed from there to her toes. “It’s Janis. Um… There’s no one else here, okay?” Yeah. That’s kind of the point. “It’s just me.”

 

And yet that’s oddly comforting, despite the fact they still don’t know each other that well. Cady invites Gretchen to hang out with them on occasion, since Janis doesn’t appear to still harbor a grudge against Gretchen for her part in Regina’s reign of terror. They get along just fine.

 

And Gretchen is pretty sure her newfound attraction to girls has something—if not everything—to do with the fact Janis is _very_ crush-worthy. (A term Gretchen coined back when Cady started liking Aaron.) Not to mention deserving of respect. So much time was wasted blindly agreeing with Regina and upholding her superiority complex, harming Janis in the process. Gretchen will always feel bad about that. Not to mention hypocritical now that she likes girls, too. Something she shoved the lid on for years to avoid being Regina’s next target. She hasn’t told anyone, not even Karen, and certainly not Sarkisian.

 

She’s mostly afraid Janis will be angry. Betrayed all over again. And maybe it’s better for her to believe Gretchen is straight. Maybe it’s better for everyone to believe it.

 

Janis could never hide it, but has never seemed like she wanted to, even if she had the choice. She’s a dyke and proud of it. That pride in spite of the shame always settled under Gretchen’s skin, not necessarily in a bad way, but like it’d mean something to her later—and it did. Even as a Plastic, Gretchen subconsciously admired Janis for sticking to her guns and refusing to be chased out of school again.

 

She’s strong, resilient like a flower that’s been continuously, ruthlessly stepped on, but found a way to grow back. And after last year, she’s flourishing now, nobody left to belittle her.

 

Gretchen doesn’t have to wonder what adapting to your surroundings is like. But she would like to know how Janis did it despite the odds. Why she never gave in and left. If it were Gretchen, she’d have gotten out. Begged her parents to homeschool her. Who cares if it satisfied Regina and people whispered about her departure? At least she’d be safe. But Janis is not Gretchen; she’s Janis, and won’t let anybody keep her pinned down.

 

Gretchen wishes she had that toughness. The ability to embrace who she is. To go through hell and end up a good person in the end. Everyone made mistakes last year, and Janis has every right to be an asshole, more than Regina ever did. But Janis is better now, too.

 

And she’s here, keeping Gretchen balanced on her feet, out of the kindness of her bruised and beaten heart. She just wants to help, to do good.

 

Who is Gretchen to deny her of that when Gretchen wants the same?

 

It feels like a million years has passed, but it’s only been a matter of seconds. Janis has taken hold of Gretchen’s other arm, waiting patiently to be acknowledged. Gretchen is still crying and it’s hard to breathe, but she’s not alone—for once, at least she’s not alone.

 

“Can’t—” she chokes out, unsure _what_ to say or how to describe it. She shakes her head and tears flow more freely, the sobs hiccupping in her chest only making it hurt more. Janis shushes her and does the one thing that evidently comes naturally to her in times of distress: pulling Gretchen into a hug, wrapping her arms around her like it’s her one skill. And Gretchen clings to her, hugging her neck like she’s never been held before, like she’s afraid she’ll break into a million impossible puzzle pieces.

 

“Shh, I gotcha,” Janis murmurs as Gretchen weeps openly into her shoulder, overwhelmed and short of breath and afraid but grateful somebody is here.

 

She used to try and hide her emotions, bottle them up only to let them out in the comfort of her shower or pillowcase. Crying in front of Regina was always an accident that she paid for. But now all she wants to do is cry, to let someone hold her and take care of her and make her feel safe and okay and not crazy. God, she’s felt fucking insane for her anxiety and panic attacks and every wrong, bad, negative thing she could possibly feel in the last five years. She’d been judged for it, physically shunned for it. But Janis won’t do that to her. Because she understands.

 

“I’m gonna die alone,” Gretchen laments, vaguely hoping her mascara won’t stain Janis’s green jacket. Though Janis might not care.

 

“No, you’re not,” Janis counters lightly, stroking her back. “I used to think that, too. It’s easy to believe when you don’t have anybody, but it’s not true. There’s no way you could die alone. I’m not gonna let that happen, and neither will Cady, or Karen. You’re still friends, right?” Gretchen nods halfheartedly. “Yeah, see? You have people. You aren’t alone, babe.”

 

Gretchen sniffs, crying quieter now, breathing somewhat easier. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she mutters, compelled to ask.

 

Janis shrugs. “I know how you feel,” is all she says, into the crook of Gretchen’s neck, and it’s so much, almost too much. Gretchen hasn’t been hugged like this in forever. And though she doesn’t think she deserves it, especially not from Janis, it’s nice to be reminded people can and do care, even the ones you don’t expect anything from. And Janis is so warm, warmer than she thought she’d be. Her hair is soft, tickling Gretchen’s hand where it’s placed on her shoulder. And she smells specifically like lemongrass, and vanilla.

 

Neither speak after that, and Gretchen gradually calms down, merely sniffling and savoring the dwindling moments of this embrace. This tight, cozy, wonderful embrace.

 

When they part, they take their time, both reluctant to let go. Gretchen’s fingers brush Janis’s neck semi-on-purpose before her hand settles innocently on her chest, the other on her elbow. She can’t make eye contact, fighting the waves of embarrassment that always come after she freaks out, even by herself.

 

“You good?” Janis murmurs, still holding her steady. Gretchen has no clue how long that took, but is relieved they weren’t interrupted by the bell.

 

“Yeah,” she whispers, voice hoarse from crying. She steps back then, self-conscious now, and flattens her skirt as she turns towards her reflection in the mirror. “Ugh. I look terrible.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Janis says kindly as Gretchen hurries to clean up her flushed, tear-streaked face. Gretchen knows she’s right, but her instinct is to cover her flaws and always look her best despite whatever just happened. Breakdown in the girls’ bathroom or not, Gretchen Wieners is not going to be caught dead looking like this.

 

But her hands are still shaking, and she can’t find her pencil. She bites her tongue to prevent a second crying jag, mildly startled when Janis gets close again and asks what she’s looking for. Sighing, resigned to it, Gretchen tells her as she leans against the counter, not quite balanced yet. Janis finds the pencil for her, then motions with it to see if she can do it for her.

 

Gretchen nods shyly, and hopes her little inhale when Janis tips her chin up with a finger isn’t audible. If Janis hears it, she doesn’t mention it.

 

Gretchen looks at the tiled ceiling as Janis softly reapplies her eyeliner, not judging or shaming her for wanting it. When that’s done, she fishes mascara out of the bag and makes Gretchen’s lashes look full again. Gretchen decides that someone doing your makeup for you when you feel like shit is a rather intimate gesture.

 

She wonders if Janis thinks she’s pretty, too.

 

After powdering Gretchen’s face, Janis puts everything back and says, “There.”

 

Gretchen glances at herself, and smiles for the first time today. She fixes a few loose curls with a finger then adjusts her shirt. In her peripheral, she catches Janis’s gaze flicker down to her chest, and while that would unsettle her if Janis were a guy, she’s actually flattered. Pleased, really, that Janis wants to look.

 

“Better?” Janis asks when Gretchen turns back to her, almost expectantly, like she’s waiting for her approval. A bad habit she has yet to kick to the curb.

 

“Better,” Gretchen echoes, and means it. Better than she expected to be.

 

The bell tolls then, signaling reality. The bathroom door bursts open and chattering girls enter now that lunch is over. Gretchen quickly gathers her things, wishing she had more time with this intriguing, tough, soft girl. And telling by Janis’s pouty expression, so does she.

 

They’re soon surrounded by girls, so they make their way to the doors, and in the hurry of it all Gretchen’s pointer finger gets hooked around Janis’s pinky, like she’s scared of getting lost in a sea of people. She sees Janis’s cheek lift as she smiles, and leads her safely out to the hall. It’s bustling out here, too, but there’s more room.

 

Much less claustrophobic. Gretchen lets out a breath, releasing Janis’s pinky a tad reluctantly. They’re in front of some lockers, away from people again. It’s like they’re in a bubble.

 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Janis offers, and Gretchen blinks in surprise.

 

“I… What?” She doesn’t really _want_ to suffer through two and a half more hours of classes, but has always been nervous to skip.

 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Janis assures. “If you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

 

If it was anyone else, Gretchen would insist she’s fine—but Janis just saw her most vulnerable side, the most broken she’s been in a while, and again Gretchen can’t deny her anything.

 

“Sure,” she concedes with a nod, just glad her wish is coming true. So Janis smiles and they head for her locker so she can retrieve her stuff, and it’s weirdly appealing how she flips her car keys around her finger. Gretchen’s heart skips a beat.

 

Janis owns a truck, a rusty, dusty pale red hunk of garbage that Gretchen can’t wait to sit in. It’s sweet how Janis opens the passenger door for her, and the inside smells like Janis, too. A year ago she never would’ve entertained the idea of going anywhere with Janis Sarkisian, but now _anywhere_ sounds exciting.

 

The singular seat vibrates under them when the engine revs to life, and Gretchen buckles her seatbelt. Janis turns the radio on low and tells her she can pick the station, so Gretchen finds one that’s tolerable since the radio never actually has good music on.

 

The only words exchanged are about directions, but otherwise the silence is nice and doesn’t feel awkward at all. Gretchen has been in so many cars after so many dates with guys who just cannot take a hint to save their life—but this is simple, and there’s no pressure or an underlying feeling of helplessness. Gretchen hates that she was ever _scared_ of Janis, scared of who she was, threatened by her bold attitude, bold everything.

 

Janis parks in front of the Wieners’ house, but keeps the engine running, and Gretchen realizes she’s supposed to get out now. She looks at Janis, who raises her eyebrows curiously.

 

“Do you wanna…come in?” Gretchen asks, unsure if this a line she should cross. Yet, or ever.

 

Janis’s dark eyes search her face for a moment prior to answering. “Do you want me to come in?” she asks carefully in return.

 

What does Gretchen want? Regina never asked what she wanted. She probably wouldn’t have cared, anyway. So Janis raising the question throws Gretchen for a loop.

 

It’s almost been a year since the Plastics broke up, and Gretchen still doesn’t know how to put herself first. Regina’s scathing voice is always in the back of her head when she does anything, down to her choice of socks she wears to bed. Even though Regina’s input no longer matters, it just comes naturally for Gretchen to doubt herself. She’s not used to somebody prioritizing her feelings when she still struggles to do that on her own.

 

But she keeps looking at Janis’s gentle face, surprised further by the lack of rage up close. She is beautiful, Gretchen thinks, though not enviously—with something akin to fondness, maybe.

 

“Yes,” Gretchen eventually replies, stiff and awkward, but sincere. “I do. Please.”

 

Janis smiles, and cuts the engine wordlessly.

 

Gretchen toes off her flats at the door, and Janis takes initiative to hop out of her boots, trying to be respectful. Gretchen finds it cute.

 

“Wow,” Janis breathes, looking around the foyer, never having been here before. The childlike awe on her face makes Gretchen laugh on her way to the staircase.

 

“My brother’s obviously still in school,” she tells Janis as they climb it together. “My parents are at a country club meeting all afternoon…or whatever.” Though not her decision to send them there, she still feels obnoxious, but Janis merely makes a neutral sound of understanding.

 

Gretchen is relieved to return to her room, feeling an immediate sense of peace the moment she walks in. She puts her bag on her bed and pads to her vanity to let her hair down. She tries to resist the urge to poof it up most days, but today she felt like she had to. Her assortment of bobby pins piling up is shameful.

 

She runs her fingers through it, smoothing it out, then takes her earrings off. She twists on her chair to say to Janis, who is courteously lingering in the doorway, “Oh, um, I have snacks.”

 

She might’ve been a Plastic, but her mom is an influential hostess.

 

“Oh, I’m good, thanks,” Janis says politely, shrugging off her jacket. She’s wearing a sleeveless red top and black ripped skinny jeans, and Gretchen has to look away from the patch of skin she sees. Why do bare stomachs have that effect on people?

 

“You don’t have to stay long,” she rambles, removing her necklace next. “Like, if you had plans with Cady or Damian or something.”

 

Janis shakes her head, sitting down on the cushy chair beside the vanity. “Nah. Cady’s all sad because she just came back from spending her break with Aaron. Damian can take care of her for a bit,” she says cheekily, and Gretchen laughs again. She’s happy to hear Cady and Aaron are still together. While her pursuit of Aaron was unconventional, at least it worked out.

 

It’s quiet as Gretchen finishes putting away her jewelry and straightening up her makeup and hair crap. She has so _much_ , and for what? Who does she perform for these days? Nobody at school gives a shit about Gretchen Wieners anymore, not when she isn’t glued to Regina’s side twenty-four seven, seeking out people’s secrets.

 

She shudders, wishing she could take it all back. Start over and make better choices. Not let her existential need for validation and praise get in the way of her morals. Walk away when a pretty blonde girl comes up to her between classes in ninth grade to ask if she wants to sit with her at lunch. Not laugh when a skinny girl clad in an oversized jacket gets tripped by a senior boy and called a dyke to her face.

 

Gretchen looks down at her manicured hands, trying not to cry. She doesn’t want to scare away her potential new friend. But fourteen-year-old Janis’s face, pinched with humiliation as she ran out of the cafeteria, is as fresh in her memory now as it was the day it happened.

 

“I’m so sorry, Janis,” Gretchen chokes, hand over her eyes. Four years ago still seems recent.

 

Janis is alarmed by the sudden waterworks. “For what?” she says, kneeling down next to her. “Gretchen, look at me. Why are you crying?”

 

“I helped ruin your life,” Gretchen weeps, swiping tears away so it won’t fuck up what Janis did. “I should never have been friends with Regina, I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“Gretchen,” Janis moans sympathetically, hand on her arm. “You weren’t there when she—”

 

“But I still made fun of you,” Gretchen reminds her. “When she and I became friends, it’s all we did. She spun this whole story about you, but it wasn’t true, and there wasn’t anything wrong with you like she said. But I believed her and so I started mocking you because I didn’t—I didn’t understand, but that doesn’t make it okay, because I kept doing it, up until last _year_ —”

 

“Gretchen, Gretchen,” Janis soothes, going to hug her again, but Gretchen shies away to stand on shaky legs. Janis stands, too, concerned.

 

“I don’t get how you can’t still hate me,” Gretchen sobs, vision blurred. “After everything I did, after everything I helped her do, how can you be _here_ , willingly—”

 

“Because I _want_ to be,” Janis interrupts, not rudely, just to keep Gretchen from spiraling deeper down this hole she’s dug. “Okay? I came to see if you were okay in the bathroom because I wanted to. I drove you home because I wanted to. I hang out with you when Cady invites you because I want to. I don’t hate you, Gretchen. And at this point, I don’t hate Regina, either. It’s done. It’s all over. Her and I, we—”

 

She pauses, jaw clenched, attempting to sum it up. “We’re never gonna be friends,” she says in a calmer voice, though tense with emotion. “I don’t want to be her friend. And I haven’t forgiven her. But…hating her gets me nowhere. I can still be angry about how she treated me—”

 

“How we all treated you,” Gretchen murmurs miserably.

 

Janis presses her lips together. “No. How she treated me. She made this mess. And then she got you wrapped around her finger. That’s not your fault.”

 

“It is, though,” Gretchen insists, lip trembling, and Janis gets closer to grab her shoulders.

 

“No, it’s not,” she says gruffly. “Yeah, you were a mean girl for a while. But so was Cady. We’ve all done bad stuff. I’m not innocent, none of us are. But you’re a victim of Regina’s shit, too, Gretch, and I think you know that. And you’re right, the stuff you did wasn’t okay. But what matters is what you do now. And how we’ve all grown up and gotten over ourselves, that also matters. You’re a really nice person, Gretchen. I know making and keeping friends is hard, but you’re helpful, and generous, and funny.”

 

She squeezes her arms before dropping her hands to her elbows, voice softening as well. “For me, it’s just different with you than it is with Regina,” Janis continues. “You and everyone else might’ve enabled her, but she was already a monster. She’d already outed me by the time you came along. And I…I don’t know what she thinks of me now. But I realized that I don’t care. I can’t spend the rest of my life being hung up on someone who’d only be satisfied to know that it still bothers me. And, yeah, it does. But lately I’ve been trying to focus on the good in my life. Because even if I die without an apology, I’ll have wound up happy. And if Regina is still hateful in eighty years, that’s her problem. And me being happy is what she wouldn’t want.”

 

Janis sighs, now grasping Gretchen’s hands. Gretchen’s sobs have stalled, but her tears keep tracking down her face in a river.

 

“Part of accepting that was forgiving you,” Janis says. “If I hadn’t been spending enough time with you, I might still be reluctant. But I think you’ve proved you’re better without her. And you being nice to me now is more than I could’ve asked for. I do appreciate the apology, though. But I don’t hold what you did against you. You’re not like that now.”

 

Gretchen is admittedly confused as to how Janis can separate her and Regina, but is aware that people can cope with their traumas and abuse in specific ways, ways that might not make sense to others. As long as it makes enough sense to Janis for her to find some semblance of peace and let certain things go in order to be okay—Gretchen definitely won’t deny her that.

 

“I’m trying,” Gretchen whispers, pleading even though Janis has already said her piece. “I really am. I care a lot about you. And…people like us.”

 

It slips out, though maybe not so unintentionally. She tugs her hands free when it occurs to her, passing Janis to go sit on her bed, head spinning. Did she really say that?

 

“Like us, Gretch?” Janis says, and Gretchen can’t decipher her tone. She comes to stand by her again, tugging lightly on a curl.

 

“I’m gay,” Gretchen blurts out, then hangs her head in shame, hands over her face. “I didn’t…I didn’t know until right before school started. I realized it randomly. Because of you, and what I did… My mom always says to put myself in other people’s shoes, and as soon as I did that, it hurt to even think about living your life. Coming to school every day knowing everyone hates you for being a lesbian. That broke me. But it was always sorta there, I just couldn’t… I couldn’t _be_ gay, not around Regina. So I never—I just never knew.”

 

“Shh, I understand,” Janis soothes, sitting behind her, giving her the dignity of hiding her face. “It’s okay. That must’ve been really hard, Gretchen, I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks, dripping with empathy, so much empathy. For someone people rarely showed any compassion for, she sure is capable of giving it herself.

 

Gretchen cries for a bit, words lost on her. The guilt is too much to bear. It doesn’t seem right for her to be gay, like it’s some sick joke the universe is pulling to torture Janis specifically, with the knowledge that one of her bullies is like her. Gretchen isn’t even proud of it, it’s just a part of her she knows exists and is still figuring out. She _wants_ to be proud, but maybe holding all this back has kept her from being okay with it. Because she needs Janis to be okay first.

 

“I’m just so sorry,” she says again, as Janis strokes her back. She fully expected Janis to blow up in anger and storm out, a well-deserved reaction.

 

“Nooo,” Janis counters, resting her cheek on Gretchen’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. You can be sorry for a lot of things, but not this. Am—am I the first person you’ve told?”

 

Gretchen nods mutely, rocking slightly because her body just hurts with the weight of every little thing that has happened today. “I’d say don’t tell anyone but you already know not to,” she sniffs. “And I don’t really have the right.”

 

“Of course you do,” Janis chastises gently. “You have every right. I promise I won’t tell, though. Not even Cady. Or Damian. Alright?” Gretchen nods weakly. “Okay.”

 

“You’re not mad?” Gretchen hiccups, stomach rolling. She’s so unused to people her age being so human with her. It’s uncharted territory.

 

“Why would I be mad?” Janis asks softly, shaking her head. “No, I’m not mad. I’m happy for you that you were able to figure it out. And…if you still are, I’m here. I have lots of knowledge.”

 

Gretchen huffs, too feeble to laugh. “I bet you do, Sarkisian.”

 

Grinning, Janis puts her chin on Gretchen’s shoulder, arms around her waist, and they sit like that for a while as Gretchen gradually calms down again.

 

After a while she remembers what Janis said, and blushes. “You think I’m funny?”

 

“I think you’re hilarious,” Janis says, and though Gretchen doesn’t get why, she appreciates it.

 

She hums with gratitude, then goes to stand, and Janis lets her go. Positive she’s cried all she can today, Gretchen steps into her bathroom to clean her face, not caring if her makeup gets botched in the process. Maybe Janis can do it for her again. As many times as she wants.

 

“You can leave,” Gretchen murmurs after, just so Janis knows she’s not a prisoner here. “Like, if you want to. You don’t have to…take care of me all day.”

 

Janis shakes her head, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Gretchen’s ear. Her whole body ignites from the motion, and the faint touch of Janis’s fingertip on the shell of her ear. Gretchen wonders—hopes, really—if she could ever have this effect on Janis. If Janis ever could see her as something desirable, something worth loving, worth wanting without selfishness.

 

“I want to be with you,” Janis replies, and her tone is off, like she’s saying one thing but really means another. But her face is genuine, warm.

 

“Well, good,” Gretchen huffs, smiling nervously, but feels giddy. “I want you to stay.”

 

She thinks she may be dreaming, for this sudden fuzzy electric feeling is something she’s only read about in books. And there’s no way Janis actually looks like she wants to kiss her. There’s no way. That longing in her eyes, it has to be a trick of the light or something.

 

“Gretch?” Janis says softly, and Gretchen quickly meets them, for hers had fallen to the other girl’s mouth unknowingly. Also longingly.

 

“Yes?” Gretchen breathes, counting down from twenty, just in case.

 

“Hold still for me,” Janis instructs her as her hands come to cup either side of Gretchen’s face, and Gretchen exhales and her eyelids slide shut and the next thing she feels is Janis’s lips on hers, delicate and careful and sweet, hands holding her face like it’s made of glass.

 

Gretchen is dizzy in the best way when Janis pulls back slightly, their eyes opening to gauge one another’s reaction. “That okay?” Janis asks, and her voice is all gravelly and soft, aching with pure wanting and hope.

 

Gretchen nods, unsure how or why this is happening but not about to complain. They can get into the logistics of it later; right now she just wants to kiss her.

 

The second is initiated by Gretchen, who has to stand on her toes to press her mouth to Janis’s with purpose. Janis makes a sound of approval, kissing her back with more force than before. They migrate to Gretchen’s bed, where it seems natural for Gretchen to fall onto her back and let Janis join her on top. At first it’s still hesitant as they find their way, but once they figure it out together it’s surprisingly easy. Janis wanting her really is more than a possibility.

 

“What are we doing?” Gretchen utters at one point, but laughs breathlessly so Janis won’t think she’s changing her mind.

 

“Dunno, but I like it a lot,” Janis murmurs, smirking down at her, and Gretchen’s gut trembles. She nods her agreement, so Janis keeps kissing her, and it’s the most wanted she’s ever felt.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are fetch ♡


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